Miss Abigail's Beastly Beau by Maggie Dallen (amazing books to read TXT) 📕

a moment he didn’t see her and she was free to take him in. She could stare to her heart's content. Her gaze caught on the scar along his jaw.

How had he gotten that? When? Her belly broke out in a fluttery sensation as she contemplated asking him. After all, they had an entire carriage ride home ahead of them, did they not?

When she drew closer, she realized that he was occupied with something in his hands. His permanent glower was more intense than usual as he concentrated on whatever it was in his grip.

It wasn’t until she was at his side that she saw what he was doing. “Are you...are you whittling?”

His head came up and she felt his gaze collide with hers as if it was a physical connection. A jarring one, at that. She stumbled back a step and started to stumble when his hand came out and caught her elbow, steadying her.

They were standing too close. His touch felt too intimate.

She glanced around quickly. Where had Anna gone off to? But she caught sight of her maid’s skirts disappearing into the carriage.

“Shall we?” She led the way, unable to hold his gaze. Her aunt’s words, their conversation...it followed her into the carriage like a new weight on her shoulders.

Caleb seemed to know it because while his gaze never left her, he did not question her. He gave her space. Peace.

She sank back into her seat and listened to Anna’s knitting needles click and clack. She looked out the window, not meeting his gaze even though she could feel it. She could almost hear the questions he was not asking, feel the concern.

If this were anyone else, she might pretend that all was well. That her heart was not heavy. That she was not dreading the upcoming trip and all it would entail.

But this was Caleb and, whether he’d liked it or not, they’d spent an inordinate amount of time together. And in that time, they’d gotten to know one another.

Not that he would admit it. This man would never admit to something so mawkish and maudlin as forming a bond with a simple country lass.

And that was what she was. She sighed wearily as she watched the trees pass by. That was who she was, and it was who she wished to be. But she supposed everyone had to grow up eventually. And her time had come.

It was time to don elegant gowns and meet proper gentlemen.

The sound of his knife cut through her thoughts and for a long while she watched his large, calloused hands work the wood. Such strength and yet such gentleness.

The man surely was a mystery.

“What are you making?” Her voice was soft and low, but after such a lengthy silence it seemed like an alarm sounding in the small quiet confines of the carriage. She cringed at the sound of it.

He, however, merely glanced up at her from beneath lowered brows. Anna looked to be merely half awake as she yawned and worked on the project in her hands.

“It’s nothing,” he said.

“Hmm.” She eyed the object. “It almost looks to be...” She glanced up and found his gaze had never wavered even though his head was still tipped down toward the wood. “Is that a child’s top?”

His grunt was a yes.

It was an effort to withhold the smile that begged to stretch her lips. That heaviness which had been weighing her down now seemed to lighten in an instant. It was a top. A spinning top.

Her brute of a pirate was making a toy.

“Who is it for?”

He frowned down at it as though the answer eluded him. “I thought it might give Nicholas something to do when you bring him over.” He glanced up as if daring her to laugh.

She tried to swallow down her amusement, but the urge to laugh would not go away.

He’d made a top.

For Nicholas.

Her heart felt like it might burst, and she bit her lip but it was no use. A smile grew so wide it hurt her cheeks.

“Mmph.” He made a throaty, rumbly sound that she felt certain she could feel in her belly. “That’s better.”

“What is?”

“That smile.” His eyes were still dark, still intent...but she caught it. A flicker of amusement. Or maybe just satisfaction. Either way it warmed her all the way through. “You should always be smiling.”

You should always be smiling. Said like a command but she knew it for the kindness it was. Her smile grew. “According to my aunt, I’m almost pretty when I smile.” She laughed after she said it, but his frown made her start.

“Almost pretty?” He huffed and her heart swelled that he was angry on her behalf. “I’ve never heard such nonsense.”

She nibbled on her lower lip. She ought to change the conversation. That way madness lies. Danger, at the very least. And up until that evening in the cave she would have said that she did not seek out trouble.

Since then?

Well, she wasn’t so certain. It was that uncertainty that loosened her tongue. “You do not think I am almost pretty, then?”

He growled. “You are beautiful and you know it.”

She grinned. “Thank you, Caleb.”

He huffed again and looked away. “What did the old witch say to make you unhappy?”

“You oughtn’t call her that.” Her chiding was too mild even to her own ears. It lacked any sort of conviction.

He arched a brow to prompt her.

“Nothing so dreadful. She just wishes to see me wed.”

He eyed her steadily. “And that is what you want as well.”

“Indeed.” She just wanted it on her terms, with someone she liked and who might respect her in turn. She wanted...

Well, she wanted what Minerva had, but she might as well be asking for lightning to strike twice.

Caleb’s gaze was searching and she wasn’t sure she wanted him to see whatever it was he was looking for. Instead, she dropped her gaze to the piece of wood in his hands.

“Nicholas will love it.”

Hmmph. That’s what his huff sounded like. Not much